


just working on my fitness (he's my witness)

by jennycaakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gyms, M/M, Pining, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 04:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12004854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: Monty doesn't really like being at the gym, but as long as he has hot guys to stare at he's pretty sure he'll be okay. Developing feelings for one of those guys is not really part of the plan.





	just working on my fitness (he's my witness)

**Author's Note:**

> based on an anon that said "have you ever used Monty's appreciation for Lincoln's good looks in a minty fic? I just feel like it'd be funny to have Lincoln and Miller hanging out / working out and Monty not knowing who to ogle more" and it kind of exploded from there. hope you like it!
> 
> keep in mind i am one of those people who knows Very Little about how gyms actually function ok cool. also like all credit to shel silverstein for that poem keep rockin on

The only reason that Monty signs up for a gym in the first place is because Octavia tells him she wouldn’t recruit Monty for her Zombie Survival Team. Which like, her opinion of Monty should not be influential at all, seeing as she’s a party girl who only just started to realize that people are allowed to have differing opinions about things. And Raven followed up by saying that Monty is totally badass and should have his _own_ Zombie Survival Team that Raven herself would kill to be on, which is way cooler than being on Octavia’s team, but whatever.

Monty signs up for a gym anyway. He absolutely fucking hates it.

He’s not athletic at all. His body lends itself to different talents, like programming and resourcefulness and general brain things. This is why Octavia didn’t want him on her team, though. He can’t swing a bat or carry a machete without his arms getting tired and he definitely cannot even outrun zombies if they’re slightly fast. Too much smoking has been hard on his lungs, okay? Even though he and Jasper have cut back on their weed intake a considerable amount since graduating, it’s still a lot. So signing up for a gym is the only option.

“I have to be able to pull my own weight in the case of an actual apocalypse,” Monty tells Jasper when the latter of the two absolutely falls apart in laughter at this news. And to be fair, Monty’s been trying to get into better shape for a while now. A diet of day old pizza and six thousands cups of green tea does not exactly lead to outstanding health.

So, Monday morning before work at the ungodly hour of 5am, Monty’s alarm goes off and he throws himself out of bed to make the trek to the gym.

Monty knows very little about how to actually _get_ in shape. He knows you go to those machines and change the weights gradually over time so one day you’re only using 15 and then by the end of it you’re on like, 400. Or something. But he meant to research last night, Gyms for Dummies maybe, and ended up getting wine drunk during Game of Thrones and passing out on his couch the second it was over instead.

 _Cardio_ , Monty thinks through his sort-of-hungover and half-asleep mind, and heads for a treadmill. He can start with that. Simple enough. Turn it on a slow speed and move it higher. Right?

 **Clarke  
** Can’t believe you started going to the gym without me this is betrayal. We agreed to suffer together

 **Monty  
** octavia wanted you on her team anyway

 **Clarke  
** Monty she was just joking around

 **Monty  
** as you can tell i am very offended

Monty turns his phone into Do Not Disturb, selects one of his Spotify playlists, and turns on the treadmill.

He _hates_ it. He hates it so much. So much. So much. Oh my _God_ , why did he _do_ this?

“Excuse me?”

Monty yanks the cord from his treadmill so it rolls to a stop and turns to the voice, finding himself face to face with one of the most beautiful men he has ever seen in his entire life. The man smiles and if it’s possible, he’s even more beautiful that the moment before. Monty practically gapes.

“Yeah?” he rasps.

The man’s wearing a blue Arkadia Gym shirt and the nametag pinned to his shirt reads Lincoln. “I believe you dropped your keys,” Lincoln says. He extends his hand and there are Monty’s keys, hanging off the Ravenclaw strap he’s attached them to. He’s new to this whole gym thing and doesn’t know any of the unspoken rules about locker usage, so he’d just balled up his keys and thrown them into the spare cup holder on his machine. They must’ve fallen out while he was struggling to breathe.

Monty manages a laugh. “Ah-ha. Yeah. That’s…” he trails off, reaching for the keys awkwardly. “Thank you.”

The man is still smiling, and his teeth really have no right being that perfect. “Don’t worry about it. Are you new to the gym?” Monty re-balls his keys and places them back into the cup holder, hoping they don’t fall out again. “I haven’t seen you here.”

“You’re trying to save it,” Monty says, wiping his sweat from his forehead with a grimace. “I’m just struggling a lot.”

“Honest,” Lincoln says gently. Everything about him radiates sincerity. “I just noticed you’d dropped your keys and your face was unfamiliar. We’re very anti-judgement here.” He smiles, ducking his head just a bit. “Even though you were struggling.”

Monty’s caught somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. He’s not sure if this beautiful man is flirting with him or what but fuck it, he’s exhausted and going to roll with it.

“Well it’s a radical adjustment from my previous lifestyle of sleeping until the last possible moment before rolling out of bed and stumbling to my car for work.”

Lincoln grins. “Yes, that does sound like a change.” He tips his head toward the front desk. “If you need any assistance on the floor, we do free trainer sessions,” he says.

Monty’s eyes dart to this man’s insanely large arms before finding his eyes again. “And are you a trainer?” Monty asks.

“I am,” Lincoln says.

Maybe the gym won’t be so bad afterall.

* * *

 **Clarke  
** You are not allowed to go to the gym and get laid it’s not fair

 **Monty  
** i sincerely doubt that i will get laid but like, i’m gonna try anyway

“That Clarke?” Jasper asks, flicking on the TV and plopping down onto the couch beside Monty with an entire tub of ice cream. “She whined to me all day that you went to the gym without her.” He shovels a spoonful of mint chocolate chip into his mouth slowly. Deliberately. “How was it?”

“Just wanted to let you know that I hate you,” Monty says, sinking down onto the couch. “I may have met the most beautiful man alive and gotten him to show me how to use like--an ab cruncher thing, but I also want to die.”

Monty reaches over and snatches the carton from Jasper, who grins. “This is cheating,” he says, gesturing to the ice cream.

“It’s a learning process,” he mutters around a mouthful.

* * *

It’s week three of Monty Is Miraculously Still Going to the Gym when he pushes open the door to find that Lincoln DuBois, the insanely handsome man who’s been teaching him how to use the machinery, is not at the desk.

Instead there’s a man there with darker skin, a scowl, and a nametag that reads _Nate_.

Monty huffs, affronted, and Nate looks up with his eyebrows narrowed. “Can I help you?” Nate asks.

Monty looks to the man working the actual desk before back to Nate before shaking his head and digging out his membership card. “Just surprised Lincoln isn’t here,” he says. Nate _rolls his eyes_. Monty tries not to frown at him. “Is he not feeling well?”

“I don’t know my co-workers life.” Monty feels his face fall. “You need a trainer?”

“No,” Monty answers hurriedly. He’s gotten used to embarrassing himself in front of Lincoln, all calm and kind and wonderful. He doesn’t need to start all over again with someone new. “I’m good.”

Monty rushes away before Nate can say anything else.

While he’s not _thrilled_ to be at the gym without his own personal incentive (which is, of course, looking at Lincoln), Monty does his normal routine. Looking at hot people in the gym is definitely helpful, but in the end, Monty’s really here to get more in shape. The only difference is that today, when he goes to use the dumbbells, stationed on his back, Monty tries more weight.

Before he can even give it a try, though, there’s a hand wrapping around the bar to stop him. Monty blinks.

“Thought you said you didn’t need a trainer,” Nate says, his eyebrows arched.

Monty frowns. “I don’t.”

“Then why are you trying to lift weights without a spotter?” Monty’s frown eases away. He’s in the wrong here. He’s just so used to Lincoln being around that the idea of asking a stranger to spot him so they could get in their work out totally slipped his mind. “I know that Lincoln can be distracting,” Nate says, releasing his grip. “But safety first, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Monty murmurs.

“I’m no Lincoln DuBois,” Nate carries on, “but I’m still a trainer here. That makes me think I’m qualified.”

Monty lets out a short breath. In the end, he’s here to be better. “Nate, right? I’m Monty.”

He nods. “Alright Monty,” Nate says. “You want my help or what?”

* * *

Lincoln isn’t at his usual hours for the next couple of days, and Monty learns from the receptionist that he took a couple of personal days. Nate’s there every day in replacement though, and like, despite the initial reluctance of having a new trainer, Nate is _hot_.

Monty’s really not at the gym to ogle the trainers. Seriously. But like, what the fuck. Where do they _find_ these people?

Nate’s attractiveness is like, massively different than Lincoln’s. Everything about Lincoln is noticeable. The bulk of his arms, the muscles that move in his back. Nate is more subtle. He’s crazy strong and is toned in places that leave Monty wondering why he’s daydreaming about someone’s calves. The biggest difference between them, though, is that Lincoln is full of heart and genuine interest. Nate hardly smiles and is instead much more critical of Monty’s form. There’s less joking around. But just as much swooning.

“Do you like working at the gym?” Monty asks one morning.

Nate shrugs. “Pays the bills. Gives me health insurance.” Monty laughs and Nate almost smiles. _Almost_. One of these days Monty’s going to get a real, true-blue smile out of this man and it’s going to be so phenomenal that Monty might actually pass out. “Keeps me in shape.”

“Do you have like--a health degree?”

Nate barks out a laugh but there’s no smile with it. “No. God, no. I have an English degree. I’ve always wanted to be a publisher. But in the meantime…” he trails off with another small shrug. “This isn’t so bad.” Monty pauses, his mouth parted a little. “What?” Nate asks.

“You have an English degree?”

“Mm.”

“Do you like poetry?”

“Mm-hm.” Nate turns to find Monty grinning, and Nate frowns. “Why that face?”

“You’re just full of surprises,” Monty says. Nate rolls his eyes, but that almost-smile is back, and Monty counts it as a win.

* * *

When Lincoln returns to his usual hours, he’s cheerful and refreshed, and Monty has to admit that he’s missed him. There’s something so genuine about Lincoln DuBois that Monty isn’t sure if he just respects the man or if he really wants to just lick his chest. Either way.

“Lately I’ve been doing a lot of research on new ways to bring about world peace,” Lincoln says while Monty does his early morning reps. Monty’s barely awake in the first place, but once Lincoln starts talking about peace and the political workings of the world, Monty really can’t pay attention.

It’s not that Monty doesn’t think political things are important, and world peace is obviously a great thing to aim for, but Monty just doesn’t know enough to make a comment that isn’t stupid. So he does his reps and nods his head and Lincoln gushes on and on about the different daily things he’s going to start doing in his life to create a better tomorrow.

That night at home, Monty yanks out his laptop and Googles: how to bring about world peace. It’s stupid, but he’s trying to impress a guy so he does his research. That’s how seduction works, right?

When Jasper offers to play Mario Kart instead, Monty forgoes his research for Chinese food and hangout time with his best friend.

Lincoln’s at it again the next day, talking about how he’s been vegetarian for a while now but is finally going to make the switch to vegan. Which is great! Monty can respect that.

“But like,” Monty fumbles for words. “Bacon.”

Lincoln laughs. “Monty. It’s a balance of caring about yourself and the environment all at once.”

So, that night after work, Monty does research on veganism but ends up in the pits of the internet that absolutely _hate_ PETA, leaving Monty more confused than before. Jasper shows up with a Meat Lovers pizza that smells heavenly and Monty drops his research again.

Eventually Monty finds something he think he can work with. Inner peace. Like yoga.

“I’ve been looking into some stuff online,” Monty says one morning after they’ve finished their run. While hitting on this attractive man has been like, a great plus, Monty has to admit he does feel better about his body. “Do you ever do yoga?”

“Meditation can be so powerful,” Lincoln says with a nod.

“Exactly! I used to mediate all the time back in college.”

Lincoln smiles at that. “Oh did you?”

“Me and my best friend would get really high,” he says, “and--”

“ _Monty_ ,” Lincoln reprimands. “We’re here to fix your physical health, not put poison into your lungs.”

Monty swallows back his standard rant on the legalization of marijuana and the benefits compared to the negatives and simply nods his head. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

In the end, Monty stops doing his research at night. It’s much more fun to pass a joint back and forth with his friends instead.

* * *

When Lincoln tells Monty that he’s moving to working evenings instead of mornings, because he’s going back to school to study internal conflict and how to fix it, Monty adjusts his hours at the gym as well.

It’s ridiculous, changing the hours in which Monty goes to the gym just to look at a beautiful, handsome man, but he’s weak. And Lincoln DuBois is a _man_. It look Monty a while to come to terms with the fact that he was into dudes, so he likes to think that he’s making up for lost time.

But here he is, _after_ work, working with Lincoln again and totally loving it.

“You’ve come a long way, Monty,” Lincoln says as Monty finishes another set. He still hates the gym. Infinitely. Even though he _feels_ better, he doesn’t think he’s actually gotten any stronger and he’s sure that his lungs are still shit, but if Lincoln’s proud of him, then whatever. “Your commitment to your health is impressive.”

“Thanks!”

“In fact I--”

“I’ll be damned,” Monty hears, turning to find Octavia standing a few feet away from Monty with her hands on her hips. He gapes at her. Lincoln is staring. She’s wearing a tight black sports bra and her hair is tied up into a tight ponytail and she’s smirking. “When Jasper told me you started going to the gym,” Octavia carries on, “I didn’t really believe him.” She looks to Lincoln, checking out his entire body. “Are you his trainer?”

“Lincoln,” he gushes, reaching forward to shake his hand. “I’ve been working with Monty since he started a few months ago.”

Octavia’s eyebrows creep up her forehead. “Months?”

“It’s a process,” Monty says.

Lincoln swallows and--yeah, he’s definitely into Octavia. “I haven’t seen you around before,” Lincoln says. “ Are you new to the gym?”

“My old place shut down their kickboxing class,” Octavia says, “and this place is closer to home. I’ve been coming about a week.”

“Kickboxing,” Lincoln says with a nod. “Such a powerful way to release energy and train your body at the same time, isn’t it?”

Lincoln leaves Monty by the Chest Press without much of an acknowledgement.

* * *

“It’s not that I wanted to fuck him,” Monty says a few days later, draped across Clarke’s couch. “I mean I _would_ have fucked him if he wanted to.” Clarke laughs, brushing Monty’s hair from his forehead. His head is in her lap and his body is sore from the 5 mile run he just did. “Maybe I just need to get laid.”

“I’m telling you,” Clarke says. “Sex is the best sort of work out. No gym required.”

Monty sighs. “But I do actually want to get in shape.”

“Change gyms?” she offers.

“No, no. I mean--it was just some--stupid infatuation,” Monty says. “I never got to drool over guys in high school or college so I… pushed it all onto that poor guy.”

Clarke shrugs. “He added Octavia on Facebook last night. He’s hot. It was a nice guy to drool over.”

“And that’s the thing!” Monty says. “He _was_ a nice guy! And not the like, nice guy who is actually shit, but yeah.” Monty sighs again. He’s tired. “I’m just going to switch back to morning hours,” he says. That’s when he feels the most productive anyway. If he climbs out of gym and forces himself to exercise before work, he feels like he gets more done. Going _after_ work just leaves him more tired than he planned for. “I was being stupid,” Monty murmurs. “Huh?”

“You had a crush,” Clarke says softly, brushing his hair back again. “It happens, Monty.”

“There’s another one,” Monty admits. “Second hot guy. But he’s kind of grumpy. And I definitely don’t have a crush on him. Not in the same way.”

“At least you can look.”

Monty groans, rolling onto his side and out of her grasp. “I can’t move. I’m sleeping on your couch tonight.”

* * *

A week later, after Monty’s resumed his normal hours and taken up Nate as his trainer again, he starts to see the gym as a place of solitude.

When he was working with Lincoln, he’d go home and spend his time trying to figure out how to impress Lincoln. Which was lame. And while Nate, as stated previously, is hot, Monty doesn’t feel the need to go out of his way to impress him.

“You look a little rough this morning,” Nate says on Thursday, and Monty shrugs.

“Me and my roommate smoked three blunts and I passed out in the bathtub,” he admits tiredly. Nate laughs so hard that Monty doesn’t even know how to react. As Nate wipes tears of mirth form his eyes, Monty tips his head to the side. “Aren’t you supposed to be angry at me?” he asks. “Being my trainer, and all that?”

Nate laughs again, still bright, still fantastic. “Man, I don’t care what you do. I just wasn’t expecting that answer, is all.”

Monty finds that being himself at the gym makes it much more fun.

* * *

 **Monty  
** hey, are we all still meeting your college friend tonight or whatever?

 **Bellamy  
** Yes! Thank God you reminded me so I can pester Clarke. You can still come?

 **Monty  
** yeah, i’m gonna grocery shop after work and drop it off but then i’ll be there. what place?

 **Bellamy  
** The bar on 4th street. Grounders. 7pm. You’re the best!

 **Monty  
** that’s what they tell me!

* * *

Monty’s never been a big fan of going to bars alone, but Jasper had to work late and Monty’s not in the business of letting Bellamy down. So, with a sigh, he climbs out of his car and makes his way into Grounders, deciding between if he wants to sip a mixed drink all night or have a couple of beers.

Bellamy’s friend moved to town a few months ago and they’ve hung out a million times since, but Bellamy’s trying to integrate the guy, Miller, into their friend group more. So Bellamy planned this whole weird meet and greet thing, because he’s Bellamy, and Monty owes it to him to be there for him.

He steps inside and heads straight for the counter, ready to grab a drink, when someone catches his eye.

“Nate!” Monty bursts in surprise, startled to see his trainer at the bar. Nate turns to him then, eyebrows arched, an easy smile on his face that makes Monty’s chest feel like a lit flame. “Hey!”

Nate ducks his head, that smile still there. “Hi Monty,” he says gently.

“Sometimes I forget people like you exist outside of the gym,” Monty carries on, mostly just overwhelmed to see this beautiful man looking beautiful outside of the space he normally looks beautiful in. Nate laughs, shaking his head a touch, and Monty’s eyes flicker over to the drink in his hand. He wonders if Nate’s smiling because of alcohol. To be fair, alcohol makes Monty smile, too. “Sorry,” he says. He can get his own drink and maybe grab a booth for everyone. “I’ll leave you.”

“No, hey,” Nate tips his head at the open seat beside him. “I’m just waiting for a friend. You can sit.”

“I’m waiting for some friends too,” Monty admits, sliding into the spot with ease. He motions for the bartender and orders a beer before turning back to Nate. Monty had been opening his mouth to say something but paused when he caught Nate’s eyes, pupils blown, lips parted. “Um,” Monty fumbles. “I--”

“Sorry,” Nate says, ducking his head again. “I’m not used to seeing people outside of the gym either.”

“It’s fine,” Monty says. His throat feels dry. Nate’s really good looking. If Clarke and Bellamy don’t show up this might as well turn into a date.

Nate grabs his drink and takes a sip. “Sorry things didn’t pan out with Lincoln,” he says easily. Monty nearly chokes and again finds himself overwhelmed with the smile creeping onto Nate’s face. “Don’t worry,” Nate carries on. “We’ve all been there.”

“I didn’t--”

“You ogled.”

Monty takes a big swig of the drink the bartender just left for him. “It’s hard not to,” he manages.

Nate laughs again. He’s definitely already had a drink. “Yeah. But while Lincoln appreciates the human body, he’s not, ah…” Nate trails off, tracing the rim of his glass with his index finger. “Actually interested.”

“Me neither,” Monty says. Nate arches an eyebrow at him. “I mean--not _really_. In Lincoln, that is. It’s just one of those things that gets you out of bed in the morning.”

Nate laughs another time, and Monty’s convinced that he’s dreaming. “Sure, Monty. If you say so.”

“Admiring from afar never hurts anyone,” Monty argues, unsure how he feels about Nate knowing about his weird not-crush on Lincoln.

“Mm-hm.” Nate drags the sound of this agreement out, like he doesn’t quite agree and is just saying it to appease Monty, and that sits weirdly in his stomach too. Maybe it’s because he’s been admiring Nate from afar too, and this moment is so close it’s practically HD. “But if--” Nate starts before his eyes snag on something. “Bellamy!”

Monty whirls around in his seat. “Bellamy?” he rasps. Behind Bellamy is Clarke and Raven and behind Raven is Jasper who apparently got off out of work, and-- _oh my God_. Monty whips back to Nate. “You’re Miller?”

Nate makes a face. “Last name,” he says with a nod. “How…?”

Bellamy strides forward with a grin, clapping his hand on Miller’s shoulder with all the familiarity of old friends. “Hey man,” Bellamy greets. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“We hung out last week,” Nate tells him.

“Every time I’m away from you feels like forever,” he says while Nate rolls his eyes. Bellamy looks to Monty with a warm smile. “I see you got to meet Monty,” he says with a nod. “Hey.”

“Actually,” Nate says dryly, “we’ve already met.”

They all pile into a booth anyway and Monty ends up squished up against Nate’s side. “So,” Bellamy says once they’re settled. “You two know each other?”

“Monty comes to my gym,” Nate says.

“Since when does the gym belong to you?” Monty asks.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Raven laughs. “Is this because of the Octavia thing? Still?” Monty narrows his eyes at Raven and she holds her hands up, taking a hint. “That’s amazing,” Raven says. “But what gym is this?”

“Arkadia Gym downtown,” Nate says. “They pay me _really_ well.”

“Putting his degree to good work,” Bellamy says, nudging him from where he’s sitting on the other side of Nate.

“I’m _looking_ for work,” Nate says. “But in the meantime I’m super okay with being paid to be in shape.” He pops his shoulder into a shrug. “I look great.”

“Are you drunk?” Bellamy asks with a laugh. Nate wrinkles his nose at him, fighting off a smile. “You’re literally smiling, how much did you drink?”

“I didn’t,” Nate protests.

“Two shots,” the bartender says, leaning into the conversation as she drops off the round that Clarke ordered for them. Nate rolls his eyes at her. “That was before the beer.”

“Meeting new people is hard,” Nate argues. Bellamy laughs again, and that smile is back on Nate’s face. “It was to ease the tension.”

“You’re tricking all of these people into thinking you’re laid back and easygoing,” Bellamy reprimands, and Monty can’t help but agree. This side of Nate, this soft side with smiles and simple laughter, is so much. “You’re only a sap when people get to know you.”

“I’m not a sap,” Nate says.

“You totally are.”

“Hard to believe,” Monty finds himself saying. Nate turns to him, that bemused look still on his face, like this entire situation is just too funny to even fully comprehend. Clarke is looking at Monty with suspicious, narrowed eyes, and Monty refuses to look at her. “It took forever to get a smile out of him.”

“Now that sounds right,” Bellamy says, pointing at him.

“I’m still not even really sure I’ve gotten one,” Monty admits.

“You have,” Nate says easily. “Raven,” Nate leans toward her, changing the subject, “I hear you work in mechanical engineering? Talk about that.”

Raven laughs. “Did your research, did you?”

Monty’s phone buzzes in his pocket while Nate response, “Bellamy mentioned it. Again, I’m not great at meeting new people.”

 **Clarke  
** This is the second hot guy from the gym ISN’T IT

 **Jasper  
** dude dude dude

 **Monty  
** he is literally sitting next to me can we relax before he reads these messages

 **Clarke  
** Oh my God I’m telling Bell

 **Monty  
** stop it!!!

 **Jasper  
** HAHAHA oh my God this is amazing

Monty flips his phone so the screen is against the table and lets out a short breath, looking over to make sure Nate isn’t paying attention. Thankfully his eyes are forward, but when he feels Monty’s gaze he lets their eyes meet, his smile growing softer, before redirecting his attention back to Raven.

Monty feels it in his stomach.

* * *

“So,” Monty says the next Monday he sees Nate at the gym. “Should I start calling you Miller?”

Nate lets out a puff of a laugh. “No. Nate’s fine.”

They settle down by the bench press and pick out their weights in silence. “Should I find another trainer?” Monty asks as he positions himself to start his reps. “It feels like it might be weird.”

Nate tips his head to the side. “Does it?” he asks. Monty goes to open his mouth. “Focus on breathing,” Nate reprimands him. Monty rolls his eyes but smiles, and though he doesn’t get a smile back in return he can basically see it in Nate’s eyes anyway. “No, it’s not weird,” Nate says as Monty takes a break. “Feels less like work this way.”

“But you get paid _really well_ ,” Monty manages, wiping sweat from his forehead, teasing Nate about his comment from the other night. “And you look _great_.”

Nate frowns at him. “I had a lot to drink.”

“It was cute.”

“Stop that.”

Monty laughs, preparing for his next set. Nate finally smiles. Things are good.

* * *

Somehow Raven gets dragged into the conversation, and Monty comes home from work one evening to find her and Clarke and Jasper all crowded together on the couch. They’ve gotten Taco Bell and it smells so heavenly that Monty’s immediately salivating.

“You got me some,” he wonders, starting for the bag, “right?”

Jasper grabs the bag and holds it off to the side. Monty frowns. “You’re gymming it up,” he says. “No Taco Bell for you.”

“What!” Monty groans, sinking onto their other couch with a groan. “I’m _gymming_ not dieting. And besides, I had a salad with lunch.”

“You had a salad for lunch?” Clarke echoes, sounding impressed.

“No, I had a salad _with_ lunch,” Monty repeats. “So with my burger.”

Raven laughs, reaching over to grab the bag before tossing it across the living room to Monty. “Of course we got you some,” she says. He grins before digging into the bag. “You’ve got to tell us about Miller though.”

Monty looks up from the bag. “What?”

“Gym boy,” Jasper reminds him.

“I--what? I know who Miller is, asshole.”

“We weren’t sure, seeing as you call him Nate,” Clarke hums.

Monty lowers the bag, his grin gone. “Is this an intervention?”

“Not really,” Clarke says. “We just want to know more.”

Monty finds one of his tacos and dives in. “Nate’s hot. He’s also my trainer,” he answers with a mouthful. “What else?”

“Are you into him?” Raven asks.

“Have you seen him?” Monty asks with a swallow. “Of course I’m into him.”

“But like… _into him_ ,” Clarke clarifies. Monty narrows his eyes. Where the fuck is this coming from? Clarke breaks first, of course. Monty knows the kind of look to give her to appeal to her heart. “Bellamy tried setting Miller up with his friend the other day,” she finally says, “and Miller said he wasn’t looking for anything because he wanted to see how something panned out. That’s you!”

Monty throws his head back in a laugh. “Not likely!” He shoves the rest of the taco into his mouth. “He’s my trainer, that’s it.”

“Ugh, come on,” Jasper says dramatically. “Let us have this!”

Monty shakes his head, digging for another taco. “Nu-uh. No way.”

But in the days that follow, Monty wonders if they might be onto something. Nate shows up one morning looking kind of conflicted. Monty doesn’t push, but finally Nate says, “I hear Lincoln’s taking Octavia on a date.”

Monty scoffs. “Fucking Octavia.”

It’s not a surprise, really. Octavia, despite being a mess of a human, is a babe. Lincoln can probably see some sort of adventure in her, and she can find some sort of solitude in him. They’ll balance each other out greatly. But still.

Nate’s eyes climb up his forehead. “Still into Lincoln, then?”

Monty sits up straight in the ab crunch machine with a frown. “I have to clarify a few things.” Nate tilts his head, his eyes alight. “The first is that I was never _seriously_ into Lincoln. He was just hot.” Monty shakes his head a little. “Never would’ve worked. He was all about like, health and body purity all the time, at every moment ever.”

“Okay,” Nate says with a little laugh. “And the other thing you have to clarify?”

Monty does another few crunches. “Octavia’s the whole reason I’m here. So her name always comes with a scoff.”

Nate waits for the elaboration while Monty finishes off his set. He climbs from the machine and Nate settles down, starting his own set as they’ve started doing more often. It’s distracting, watching his muscles do things. But. It also makes it less weird seeing as Monty’s started seeing Nate outside of the gym a lot more.

“She’s the reason you’re here?”

“Well that’s the thing,” Monty says as Nate starts his set. If he talks, at least he won’t get distracted by just blatantly staring. “She didn’t want me on their Zombie Survival Team. Because I’m not fit enough.” Nate releases the machine and turns to Monty, eyebrows arched. “So I had to get in better shape.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“I take my survival in the inevitable apocalypse very seriously.” Nate opens his mouth to say something, sitting up in the seat, and Monty holds out his hand. “Don’t even start,” he says. “I can feel that you’re about to mock me and I don’t want to hear it.”

The smile that finds Nate’s face is overwhelming. Monty’s convinced he hasn’t seen Nate _really_ smile before, at least certainly not like this. All warm and fond and almost shy.

“I wasn’t going to mock you,” Nate says, readjusting his hand on the grips. “There’s an app I use when I do cardio sometimes. It’s called Zombies: Run. You should give it a try.” Monty finds himself pausing in shock, his lips parted in surprise at this man. “It’s pretty fun.”

“I’ll look into it,” Monty manages.

“And just for the record,” Nate says, climbing off the machine. “I’d want you on my team.”

* * *

The more often that Monty sees Nate out of the gym, and the more friendly that Nate is inside of the gym, leaves Monty realizing that--okay, fine, he has a crush.

And this one is way worse than the last.

Every smile he earns from Nate, no matter where they are, feels like a victory. Laughter is a gift. The teasing and the back and forth that they go through has Monty’s face feeling red. They always end up next to each other when the gang goes out to happy hour and Nate always looks up from the book he’s reading eagerly when Monty walks through the door and, wow, yeah, this is a crush.

It doesn’t help that when Bellamy finally convinces Nate to have some sort of housewarming party for his apartment, Monty gets caught snooping in Nate’s room.

“Having fun?” Nate asks, startling Monty away from the bookshelf where he was reading spines. Nate tips his head to the side and Monty look at the floor, his face burning. “Noticed you went missing.”

“Stalker.”

Nate laughs. “Yeah, sure.” He points to the bookshelf. “See anything you like?” he asks.

Monty shrugs. “I’m not a big reader,” he admits, returning to the books. There are names he recognizes, but nothing really calls out to him. Except. “Is this a Slytherin set of the Harry Potter books?”

“It’s called dedication,” Nate says, dropping onto the edge of his bed. “Let me guess. You’re a Ravenclaw?”

“Unfair,” Monty says without looking up. “I wore my Ravenclaw shirt to the gym the other day.” Nate sinks backwards on his palms while Monty browses. “What’s your favorite?”

“In the Harry Potter series? Or in general?”

Monty glances over his shoulder. “In general.” When Nate doesn’t answer right away, Monty looks back to him. “Too hard to pick?” he jokes.

Nate shakes his head, fighting a smile. “You’ll laugh at me,” he says.

That alone makes Monty laugh. “What? No way.” He stands, whirling around to face him. “What’s your favorite book?” Again he hesitates. “Nate!”

Nate smiles then, looking a bit overwhelmed. “ _Where the Sidewalk Ends_ ,” he says. “By Shel Silverstein.” Monty feels his jaw drop on it’s own. “Don’t,” he says with a laugh of his own. “It was the first book that taught me that poetry could be fun and powerful all at once, okay? And…” he trails off while Monty still stares at him. “Stop it!”

“I’m not laughing,” Monty says.

“I know, this feels worse.”

“What were you going to say!”

Nate ducks his head and Monty lowers himself onto the edge of Nate’s bed. “He had this poem,” Nate says, looking toward the ground but at least still smiling, “that really stuck with me as I got older, and I really just--”

“What poem?” Monty asks.

“ _Masks_ ,” Nate says. “It’s not in _Where the Sidewalk Ends_. But…” he trails off, clearing his throat. “ _She had blue skin. And so did he. He kept it hid, and so did she. They searched for blue their whole life through, then passed right by—_ ”

“ _And never knew,”_ Monty finishes the poem. Nate looks up, their eyes meeting. “I know that one,” he says.

“Yeah,” Nate exhales.

It looks like he’s going to say something else when the door bursts open and Clarke’s standing there, looking sheepish. “Sorry!” she gushes. “Bathroom?”

“Across the hall,” Nate tells her. Clarke’s eyes flicker to Monty and she makes an apologetic face before turning on her heel and hurrying across the hall to the bathroom. “Let’s get back,” Nate settles with, pushing himself from his bed and leaving the room before Monty can respond.

* * *

 **Clarke  
** Sorry about last night! That looked intense. You guys were like, gazing at each other hardcore. Did you make out yet?

 **Monty  
** it’s fine! and no

 **Clarke  
** Ugh. You really like him though, right?

 **Monty  
** yeah

 **Clarke  
** Woohoo!

 **Monty  
** no but that’s the problem

 **Clarke  
** Because he’s from the gym?

 **Monty  
** no, like, i would’ve definitely make out with lincoln who in their right mind wouldn’t?

 **Clarke  
** But Miller’s more attainable?

 **Monty  
** no, like, no way is he more attainable. he’s just more real and i actually like him. it isn’t about just making out or hooking up anymore. neither of them were ever attainable lmao

 **Clarke  
** Aw Monty that’s not true

 **Monty  
** lincoln was that like… crush you have on someone that you don’t even know. you just see them at the grocery store every time you go or something stupid like that. but nate’s…

 **Clarke  
** It’s just more?

 **Monty  
** yeah. it’s just more

* * *

Monty shows up at the gym Sunday night, way out of his usual time, just because he needs to run. He isn’t sure how that makes him feel about himself as a person. When he needed to get stress out like, two months ago, he’d take a shot. Now he’s running? Ugh.

But he heads to the gym anyway, making his way to the treadmill way in the back. On his way there he gets stopped and he turns, surprised to see Lincoln.

“Hey,” Lincoln greets. “It’s good to see you!” Monty stares dumbfounded for a moment. He’s just as good looking at Monty remembers. “It’s been a while.”

“I switched back to morning hours,” Monty tells him.

“Yeah, that’s what Nathan’s said. You mostly work with him.”

“Mm. Yeah.”

Lincoln nods at him, smiling brightly. “I’m glad to see you’re still taking care of yourself, Monty. You can see the improvement.”

“Maybe you can,” Monty murmurs, holding up his arms. “But sometimes I’m not sure I can.”

“Patience and dedication will get you where you want to be,” he says. “But I was just heading out.” He lowers his hand onto Monty’s shoulder and squeezes. “Best of luck in your journey, Monty.”

Monty smiles back, unsure what to say. “Thanks,” he finally ends with.

Lincoln nods his head at him and starts walking away. “Remember,” he calls over his shoulder, “the gym closes in about half an hour.” Monty glances at the clock with a nod, cursing Sunday hours, as Lincoln finally leaves.

Running helps.

It doesn’t help being in the gym where he inevitably thinks of Nate, of course, but getting out the frustrated energy that comes with having a crush that isn’t going anywhere feels good. Monty keeps upping the speed just a little, proving to himself that he’s faster than he used to be. _Take that, Octavia,_ he thinks.

“Whoa, whoa,” he’s startled out of his latest mission in _Zombies: Run!_ to someone turning down the speed on his machine. “Careful there, Road Runner.”

And of course, it’s Nate.

Monty pops one of his headphones out and turns off his machine so he can stand there, panting. “Hey,” he greets. Nate smiles back. “Didn’t realize you worked tonight.”

“I close every other Sunday,” he tells him. Nate turns, eyes on the clock. “Which should be in like five minutes.” The gym is practically empty. “You okay? You’re not usually here this late.”

“Fine,” Monty says a little too quickly.

Nate doesn’t believe him. “How about you wait for me to close up,” he says, “and we can get a drink. Hm?”

Monty reaches up, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. This is not helpful. But he’s weak, and he likes Nate, so he nods. “That would be great.”

Nate smiles again. “Then get back to it,” he says, gesturing to the machine. “I’ll grab you once I’m done.” Monty hikes up the speed and then is back at it, his feet pounding against the treadmill as he runs as hard as he can. Nate returns eventually but Monty’s chest is a tangle of knots all over again. “You mind if I change?” he asks. “I’ve got clothes in the back.”

“Not at all.” Monty follows him to the staff locker room, lowering himself down onto the bench. “Never been back here,” Monty says, looking around the room.

“It’s pretty nice,” Nate says. “We’ve got a hot tub in the back.” Monty’s jaw drops and Nate laughs. “Joking.” He opens his locker and digs through it for his clothes. “So what’s going on?” he asks.

Monty shakes his head. “Nothing. Just had excess energy. Wanted to run.”

“Mm…” Nate trails off. He checks his phone, which he must leave in his locker during his shifts. “Saw you with Lincoln.”

“Yeah, that was a surprise.” Nate laughs. “He told me that he could, and I quote, see my improvement.”

Nate nods. “Well you can.” Monty scoffs. “I’m serious,” Nate says. He drops his phone back into his locker and gestures. “C’mere.” Monty hesitates, but soon he’s just in front of Nate. “Here,” Nate says, holding up Monty’s arm. He taps his tricep area. “Nice and toned.” Monty frowns at him. “Do I need to tell you to take your shirt off?” he jokes. Nate tugs Monty’s shirt up just a bit. “You have abs, man.”

Monty nudges his hand away. “Whatever.”

Nate rolls his eyes and returns to himself, peeling off his own shirt. “Nice calves too. That and the fact that you’ve gone from 10 pound weights to nearly a hundred, depending on the muscle, over the past few months.”

“70 is not nearly a hundred,” Monty mutters.

“Is so,” Nate counters.

Monty wants to give him some sort of retort again but Nate’s shirtless and Monty’s frozen in his spot. They work out together a lot, and while sometimes Nate wears great shirts that show off his arms, Monty’s never seen him without his shirt on. His tongue feels heavy.

“ _You_ have abs,” Monty finally huffs, overwhelmed at the sight of them. They’re so prominent! Nate is fucking sculpted, good Lord. He takes a few steps back, feeling much too close to him.

Nate looks back to him, his eyes widening a little. There’s a pause between them and Monty forces himself to stop staring. His eyes settle on Nate’s collarbone which--honestly, isn’t helpful. Because what the fuck, that’s a nice collarbone.

“Are you ogling me?” Nate asks.

Monty’s eyes snap up to his and he stumbles over his words. “What? I--no, of course not.” Nate steps toward him then, slowly, his face unreadable. “That’s crazy,” Monty carries on, overwhelmed at the intentional way Nate stalks toward him.

“You are,” Nate says.

“Am not,” Monty bursts. “That’s way inappropriate.”

Nate’s closer now and Monty can see it, the warmth in his eyes. The feeling of relief inside of his stomach is more than overwhelming. “You _are_ ,” Nate says again, softer. “I can see it.”

Monty commands himself to swallow. “Maybe a little,” he admits. “But--”

Nate kisses him before he can get in another word. Monty melts, surprise and excitement warring for control over him, and opens his mouth into it. He reaches out to steady himself, his hands burning against Nate’s hips. He tugs Nate just a touch closer and Nate _groans_ and wow, they’re making out, and Nate pins him back against the lockers careful to make sure Monty doesn’t land on any of the actual locks but rather between them. He slides his leg between Monty’s and grinds forward and Monty breaks away with a gasp, thunking his head backwards against a locker.

Nate puffs out a laugh before leaning in, kissing across Monty’s chin to get to his throat. “Sorry,” he exhales. “This okay?”

“ _Obviously_.” Nate laughs again before kissing him another time, warm and firm, and--holy fuck. “I’m gross and sweaty,” Monty breathes between them.

“I don’t mind,” Nate murmurs.

“I do!”

Nate pulls back, eyes dark and bright all at once, needful but shining. “Okay. How about a shower?” he asks. Before Monty can nod, the first thing he remembers is that it’s a _gym shower_. He tips his head to the side curiously and Nate laughs, something so genuine that Monty definitely does not deserve it. “They’re like, infinitely cleaner than the ones for members,” Nate promises, voice soft, and Monty’s pretty sure that he’s dreaming. “Swear it.”

“Then yes,” Monty answers with a nod.

Nate grins. After another kiss he pulls back, creeping Monty’s shirt up and over his head in a way that’s so intentional and sexy, kissing his way up Monty’s chest as he goes, and Monty’s left bewildered. How the hell did he end up in this moment?

“So if you haven’t picked up yet,” Nate says, tugging Monty backwards toward what Monty assumes are the showers, “I’m kind of into you.”

“Only kind of?”

Nate laughs. “Sorry. Is this too much?”

“You’re really overwhelming,” Monty admits, but he can’t stop smiling, so hopefully Nate gets the hint. “I really like you,” Monty tells him.

“For my body, I know.” Monty gives him a fake shove and Nate laughs again and, wow, wow. “These,” Nate says, tugging on Monty’s elastic.

Nate reaches back to turn on the hot water before kicking off his shoes and Monty follows suit. His shorts end up on the ground with Nate’s and then they’re in the shower, making out under the stream of water, Nate’s body pressed firmly against his own.

They manage a bit of soap between them but Monty’s caught up in the kissing and Nate’s wandering hands to think too much on it. But then Nate’s tugging on him until he’s hard which doesn’t take too long, and then Nate’s on his knees, and then he has Monty in his mouth. Monty scrambles to grab onto something but the tile is too slick so he ends up with his hands on the back of Nate’s head.

“Nate,” he rasps, and Nate hums as though he’s entirely too content to be sucking Monty’s dick. “We’re the only ones here, right?” he manages, and Nate pops off with a laugh.

“Yeah, Monty.”

“Okay, okay cool.” Nate resumes sucking his dick and Monty decides he doesn’t have to shove his arm into his mouth to keep quiet and just groans, letting Nate do his thing.

After Nate swallows Monty just stands there, trying to figure out how to breathe, and wondering when he’s going to be able to tell Clarke that she was right--sex _is_ a great workout. His heart is pounding faster than when he’s on the treadmill.

“That was so hot,” Monty gasps, dropping his head backwards against the shower wall. “You’re so hot. Oh my _God_.” Nate kisses his way back up Monty’s body before tugging him forward and kissing him again.

“So are you,” Nate murmurs against Monty’s mouth.

If Monty could control any part of his body he’d roll his eyes, but that was so fucking good he can’t even think. His hands clutch Nate’s shoulders, grasping for something steady, and Monty nearly groans again at the feel of Nate pressed against him.

It takes a moment for Monty to recover, and it’s only after Nate’s sucking marks onto Monty’s throat does Monty remember Nate’s yet to be taken care of. His hands slip down Nate’s body, slick from the water, before wrapping his fingers around him.

Nate’s moan is hot and low. “Yeah,” he exhales against Monty’s throat. “That’s good.” Monty dips so instead of getting more hickeys he can kiss Nate instead, and Monty ends up swallowing his groans.

When Nate comes he moans Monty’s name and it’s so impossibly hot that Monty still isn’t even sure that this is happening.

The water cleans them both up easily enough and Nate cups Monty’s cheek and swipes his thumb over his chin. He kisses Monty once before pulling back, something soft in his gaze. “So,” Nate murmurs between them. “Still want to get that drink?”

Monty’s answering laugh is enough.

* * *

 **Clarke  
** Okay I KNEW you'd end up getting laid at the gym, someone definitely owes me money!!

* * *

A few weeks later, Monty takes a kickboxing class with Octavia to show her how much he’s improved in his general athletic skill. While he’s not _good_ at kickboxing, he’s way better than she expected. It’s evident in the way her eyes grow wide every now and then, by the way she pauses to make sure she isn’t making things up.

“Okay, okay, fine,” she says as they’re grabbing their duffle bags. “You can join my zombie team.”

“Great,” Monty says with a grin. Nate’s waiting at the door for him, his shift just ended and he and Monty are going to get ice cream. “Unfortunately, you can’t be on mine.”

Octavia scoffs. “Rude.”

“You are,” he agrees. “Hence your exclusion from my team!” He races away with a laugh as Octavia tries to swing her gym bag at him, meeting Nate for a kiss just by the door. “Get me out of here,” Monty says. “She’ll try and kill me.”

Nate laughs too, dragging Monty from the gym. Octavia lingers at the desk to talk to Lincoln anyway, so Monty’s inevitable murder is delayed just a bit. He climbs into Nate’s truck, throwing his things in the back before buckling up.

They’re maybe five minutes away from the gym when Nate clears his throat. “So,” he says.

“So!” Monty echoes. “Right! How’d it go?”

“Officially put in my two weeks,” Nate says, flicking on his blinker. “They were sad to see me go but seeing as I’ll actually get to be doing work I want to do, they didn’t seem to mind.”

Monty reaches over and squeezes Nate’s knee. He’s gotten a job at a nearby publishing company and he’s going to be fucking awesome at it. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Me too,” Nate says. “I fucking hated that gym.”

Monty laughs, “You did not!”

“Did so.”

“You met me there!”

Nate grins. He pulls the truck to a stop at the light and turns to look at Monty. “Yeah, but I would’ve met you eventually anyway.” Monty rolls his eyes at his boyfriend but Nate leans in, snatching a quick kiss. “Are you going to stop going now that I won’t be there?”

The light turns green before Monty can figure out how he wants to answer.

“Probably not,” he admits. “Maybe not as often?”

“Really?” Nate asks. “Me not being there shouldn’t stop you.”

“Yeah, but if I go like, three times a week, and we have morning sex the other two, it’ll probably even out?”

“Is morning sex a workout?” Nate asks with a laugh.

“If you’re vigorous enough, according to the article I read online,” Monty answers. Nate laughs again, shaking his head at his boyfriend but smiling like a dolt anyway.

They pull into the ice cream shop and Nate leans over, kissing Monty firmly. “You should still go to the gym, babe. I’ll go with you.”

“We’ll see,” Monty murmurs against his mouth. After another warm kiss, Monty hops from Nate’s truck and heads inside.

Once they’re waiting, Nate twines his fingers with Monty’s and squeezes once. With his freehand Monty checks his phone, letting Jasper know he won’t be home until late, and reminding Raven and Clarke to mind their own business.

 **Clarke  
** We’re just happy for you is all

 **Monty  
** we’ve been dating for weeks now

 **Raven  
** and we’re still happy for you!

Smiling, Monty rolls his eyes again and shoves his phone back into his pocket.  Nate squeezes his hand again. When the cashier asks what he’d like, he orders two scoops of mint chocolate chip.

If Monty’s getting all the things he likes, he might as well indulge.


End file.
